Return to Insanity again Harry Potter Edition
by Pale Sisters
Summary: The pale sisters are back again for their second adventure, trying to sort out the problems from their last adventure and dealing with their new one.
1. Chapter 1

Again, Becca and Krystle were making the mistake of using the same computer at the same time. It was a hot, sultry day outside, so they were glad to be inside in the air conditioning. Becca was wearing her favorite hat, her converse shoes with the $100 Ben Franklin print, Harry Potter shirt, and cargo capris.

As always, it looked as though Krystle hadn't cared much about her outfit for the day. Ripped jeans, the ocean-blue gems missing in several places from the swirly patterns near her pockets, a long gray tee, this one with indistinct, smoky gray skulls littered across the front, her typical golden necklace (and only Becca knew what lay at the end, as a result of their previous adventure), and hair flopping over one eye, her expression at peace, her eyes closed as she drummed the desk with her fingers, the earplugs to her beat-up old CD player in her ear. Becca, currently, and quite out of characterly, was trying to get her to actually work.

"Come on, how come I'm working on cleaning up our room and you're just sitting there? I mean you're not even writing, what are you listening to anyway?" Becca half glared, half smiled at her sister.

"You're not working on cleaning up our room," Krystle demurred faintly; Becca was quite surprised that she could even hear, as judging by the faint hiss issuing from the earplugs, the music was quite loud. "You're sitting on the computer, waiting for me to get up so that we can clean up; we both know that I'm the most organized here." However, the heat seemed to have gotten to her, and she was silent for a long moment, not making any attempt to rise. "I'm listening to some song by Cartel. 'The Minstrel's Prayer,' I think it's called. And for your information, I've had a writer's block, ever since..." Her face's peaceful expression was shattered and a spasm of resentment and regret crossed it. "...ever since we came back from Jack's time."

"I'll never forget that, If only we could return sometime," Becca mused, looking back to her computer, while she inadvertently played with her skull and cross bone studs as she sat at the computer, with eyes glazed. She didn't pay too much attention to the German site that she'd been trying to translate for school.

Krystle was silent. Becca glanced sideways at her and saw the ghosts of that short time passing over her surrogate sister's eyes. Ever since they'd returned, Krystle had been distant. She locked herself behind her music and her books, and her AP homework and her nightmares, and hardly spoke to anyone anymore. "We'll never go back," she said softly, suddenly. "You know we can't, Becca. We have no way to return. It doesn't work anymore. I've tried it, thousands of times." She lifted the golden medallion from her shirt, gazing at it with a terrible longing in her eyes, the pain there strong and unwavering. "I just miss him, that's all," she said quietly to Becca's unasked question, and tucked the medallion away again.

Becca gazed at her surrogate sister; she seemed to be the shell of her former self almost. She'd been depressed before, but it seemed that the end of the mass adventures they'd had in Jack's time seemed to take all precedence. "It's not like you're the only one who never dreams about returning, wanting for another object to appear. I miss the roar of the wild and writhing sea as much as you do. We have the sea out there", she motioned outside their flat, to Florida Bay, which led to the Atlantic Ocean. "I mean, the sea is amazing there, but it doesn't merit as much fascination and terror as it did back then, and we were right in the middle of it." Of course Becca would bring this up, she was pursuing a career in Marine Biology, and it enveloped many of her thoughts. "And I miss Jack as well." She said gloomily.

Some writhing rage suddenly appeared in Krystle's eyes, and she jumped to her feet, glaring down at Becca. "You don't know all of it," she snarled, angrily. Becca recoiled in shock; Krystle had never argued with her so ferociously before. "We...that last night, we..." She swallowed, hard, angrily, and raged on. "I drank with him," she said, her eyes hard, "I drank with him, and he said things I know he didn't mean, and he kissed me, and..." She stormed over to the window, lashing out at the glass, and Becca was surprised that it didn't shatter. "I don't miss the adventure, Becca, I just miss him...why did you think I had a pounding headache when we woke up back here? I was hungover, for the first time in my life." Suddenly, her rage seemed to calm, and she stopped, turning slowly, raising her hand to her eyes, blowing out a shaky breath. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice returned to its usual near-silent timbre. "I didn't mean to snap at you."

"You were so bloody drunk last night that you didn't even realize what he was doing when he left your blasted table. He was sitting with me, trying to pry some rum into my mouth. You were so into your rum that you didn't notice that Jack kissed me before he kissed you; he told things that he didn't mean. Will you ever realize that he probably has forgotten, about both of us? And he probably went out the night after we disappeared to binge with some other women. Get it through your mind that he doesn't care!" Becca was now standing up, both the memory of that last night and the heat was getting to her, she always got very cranky when it was hot out. "I'm so sick of you moping around like you've lost your one true love; Jack isn't tied down by anything or anyone, except the sea." She sat back down, disgusted.

"I don't care if you're disgusted with me!" Krystle shouted, her temper back up again. "I see the look on your face, I know I'm being completely stupid, I don't need you telling me to get anything through my head. I've spent my whole life ferreting around for that one person who might care about me, and now I know for certain - he doesn't exist. Acting like I lost my one true love, Becca? I noticed, you know. I saw him kiss you first, even if I was bloody drunk. I knew he wasn't...it...and I did it anyway, took the rum, let him take advantage of me. I'd actually grown to like him, the first person I've really liked in so long - you remember the last disaster, don't you?" Her hard eyes burned into Becca's, but the other didn't back down. "A year of leading me on, and I walk in on him snogging another girl? I'm not worth it to any of them, Becca, which is why he kissed you first...we only knew Jack for a couple of weeks at the most, but I thought I actually had a chance." She took a last breath and snarled, "Forgive me for my false hope," and strode from the room, her head held angrily high. By the sound of the door slamming, it sounded like she'd walked into the bathroom and locked the door.

"I'm so sick of your excuses! That's like all the rubbish I've told you through the years about me thinking that I wasn't good enough for anyone. You think I haven't been lead on? Rubbish! The guy that I loved is engaged to someone else! We don't get what we want Krystle! This is what's called life." Tears welled up in her eyes. "I thought I found the guy I could spend the rest of my life with," She whispered. "But it doesn't seem as though he felt the same way." Glaring at the door of the bathroom, she continued her rant. "I kissed that man, even though he was kissing you across the room because it felt like I was breaking all ties I had from our world, like I was admitting defeat of ever returning. Yet we're back." I'm so sick of you lately, every thing you do is so pathetic, it's sickening." She glared back at the computer screen and scribbled notes madly in her notebook, angry tears streaming down her face.

Krystle looked up at the bathroom mirror, listening to the cold water rush from the tap and into the sink, staring straight into her own forest-brown eyes, following the wasted line of her jaw, looking at the dark circles under her eyes, looking at the reflection that had finally lost it, that had finally let everything rise to the surface. "I'm sorry I'm so sickening," she whispered to herself, glaring at the mirror. "I'm sorry I'm so pathetic, and I'm sorry I didn't drown in that last glass of rum..." And suddenly, the anger returned, and she lashed out at the glass, striking it with her hand, shattering the mirror in one swift stroke as pieces of her broke and fell into the water below and blood dripped down her palm, and when she looked back up at her shattered reflection, it seemed to have gone a little unfocused, and with a feeling of dread she realized that the familiar feeling of being slowly disassembled was coming upon her.

Becca looked up, stunned, at the door of the bathroom. She wasn't a particularily strong person, so she was amazed that she somehow broke the door open. The fading image of Krystle, with blood splattered on her hands. "Krystle?" She ran to her, just in time to cunningly grab the first aid kit and her arm, while they disappeared entirely from real life, again.


	2. Sorry

They reappeared in an empty, desolate flat, and just beyond the doors they could hear the sounds of people rustling by, traffic blowing through. Krystle was staring at her hands, her whole body shaking. Blood was streaming through slashes in her palms and fingers. Becca sighed in exasperation and sat her on an empty box, then began to rustle through the first-aid kit and fix her younger sister up. "Did you see the mirror?" Krystle said, her voice quite steady and even, though slightly distant. Becca shook her head no. "It was beautiful, really, all that shattered glass..." She looked down at her hands again, a serene expression on her face. One outlash of rage was all it took, and she was quiet again. "I really am sorry, you know," she said suddenly, her voice still steady. "About...well, everything, mostly; our whole, sorry mess of lives."

Becca gazed at her sister, trying to find meaning in her stormy face. "Look, I know you really are sorry. Yet you have to prove to me that you aren't going to keep wasting your time waiting for the perfect mate to come around. Some people don't always find their mates for life when they're only just out of high school, it takes many years for some. Believe me on this, I wished finding my love was easy, but it never turned out that way." She enveloped all mind and thought to bandaging her sister's hands so the painful memories wouldn't engulf her entirely.

"I stopped looking after that last disaster." Krystle winced as pain finally began to register in her hands. "And now, coming back from that time, it seems useles. I'm done looking. It's not for the want of not hurting - you know me, I love hurting. Makes my writing better." She offered a half-grin, one that looked almost painful. "But I can hurt in different ways. I'm done trying to find him. If he wants me, he can just get his lazy butt up and find me." Krystle seemed satisfied with her own explanation and nodded. "You'll find him though, Becca," she said suddenly, as gently as she could. "You've got many more optimistic fantasies than me...though I know that a part of you is just like me. It's like we've partially become one another, after all this time." Her eyes turned much more somber. "And for that, I really am sorry. You don't need that."

"Oh dear sister, stop being so mellow dramatic," She half smiled at this oxy-moron, her sister didn't always have the same attitude that Becca seemed to have plastered on her at all times, though she never quite believed that anyone would ever love her back. She never really told her sister this, because her sister was busy dealing with her own love disasters. Smiling faintly at her sister, she mumbled, "Never bloody give up, keep on truckin'." Grimacing at her sister, she tied off the last bandage and cut off the remainder, stowing the small first aid kit into one of her lower pockets.


	3. To Live Without You Again

**Becca's POV**

Sure I had always been a trifle bit sick of my sister's stance towards men, it just felt like she didn't put her self out enough. It was like she felt at though if her heart was broken twice, then it was all up to some moronic guy to try and guess what she wanted from him. That never leads out well, seeing as guys tend to be a bit dense. Her surrogate sister always meant well, but she sometimes missed the picture entirely, especially when she tried flirting with someone who was in love with her friend. I always felt bad for her, seeing as I was thousands of miles away from her at the time and it was near impossible for me to comfort her those days. She couldn't write, nor could she enjoy things going around her.

Krystle looked at me, shattering my thoughts, like she did that mirror. "Did you hear that?" She asked, looking around. We'd been so worked up in our fight that we didn't really realize that we were not in our flat anymore. I doubted that we were even in Florida, nonetheless even our decade.

We seemed to be in a grubby alley, not exactly the best place to have a fight, it looked as though the sun was setting and our world was quickly darkening. "Let's get out of this alley" I said quickly, helping her up to her feet and stumbling to the end of the alley.

The sight that met us had us stumbling around drunkenly, laughing our heads off. We seemed to be right in the middle of Diagon Alley. Though this was not the Diagon Alley that we'd read about in the series. This one was dark and desolate; it almost looked as though we were in Knockturn Alley, rather than the upbeat Diagon Alley.

The witches and wizards seemed to be filing past, barely talking to anyone. It looked as though they were all heading to a funeral for someone. My heart seemed to plummet to the ground as I realized that people had gotten word that Dumbledore had been killed. I was suddenly in the mindset of the last few pages of the sixth book, the one that I read bleary eyed, in twenty-four hours. Knowing that it was fiction made me feel better, even though I was unnerved by the thought of Dumbledore's passing, being in the middle of it made me want to be sick.

I noticed that all the witches and wizards were all wearing some article of black in their wizard clothing, an armband there, a hat with a raven sticking out of it, even wizards had their ways of mourning. Then this of course took me back a few years at the passing of one of my good friends from a heart malfunction. I shivered.

Krystle came up beside me and put her arm around me, even though she was my younger sister, she was still a bit taller than me. I was glad we wouldn't be alone this time; I knew this would be different than our last adventure. Hopefully we'd get some meaning out of it.

Noticing two owls flying towards us, we tried to duck out of the way. Yet the owls, unhindered, flew right to us, dropping two heavy bits of parchments into our outstretched hands.

Opening my letter I was astonished to see that a wand had appeared and the letter stated that I was to report to 17 Horloge Avenue, there was going to be a joining of the Order. I gazed up in wonder at Krystle, who looked as though her mouth had become unhinged. "I'm going to assume that you got the same exact letter that I did, right?"


End file.
